


Dorky Sunlight

by AlphaKantSpell



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dog - Freeform, Pet, Pets, bull terrior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaKantSpell/pseuds/AlphaKantSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint finds a stray bull terrier puppy and gives him a home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dorky Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated for my past whippet, Gambit. I adore you, you gangly, doe-eyed hound. Also for Jinx, my Chihuahua-lhasa Apso who’s brought joy, annoyance, and companionship for six years since getting her as a puppy. There is much of you in this story.

Dorky Sunlight

            As far as first impressions went, Bullseye’s was pretty bad.  Natasha could hear his chuffing breath all the way down the hall.  She didn’t need Fury’s hiss or Maria’s agitated concern to know Clint was doing something stupid again; she could hear it before even getting to his room. 

            Natasha pried open Clint’s door without sound and stared at the man and dog.  A bull-terrier, about the size of a bicycle basket bounced in Clint’s lap, licking the man’s chin and ears and neck like he was the world’s tastiest treat.  It was disgusting.  So small, was the pup, that when he shook his tail the entire dog shook and wiggled.  Clint snorted with laughter as the dog dove for more kisses, his giant nose getting in the way. 

            “Oh, hey Nat,” Clint beamed up at her.  The pup whined when Clint pulled it away.  Clint sat straighter and hefted the pup up for Natasha’s inspection.  It licked its lips and smiled at her.  Staring head on at a bull-terrier couldn’t be described as anything else.  The dog was one big grin.  “Say hello to Bullseye.”

            Bullseye was an idiotic if appropriate name.  Mostly white, the dog had a big, black patch of fur covering its left eye almost ear to jaw.  Natasha was surprised he didn’t name it Fury; the dog was just about wearing an eye patch.  Bullseye wiggled again and twisted in Clint’s arms to be put down.  The archer complied and the puppy snuggled back into his lap.  Little chest pattering, Bullseye had the gall to stare at Natasha with his cute little triangle eyes twinkling. 

            Natasha hated dogs.  She hated how they smelled and sounded.  She hated big bellowing barks and especially the yippie ones.  She hated how they drooled or humped on everything – even the females.  Most of all she hated a dog’s loyalty, it was biased on food and domination; something that reminded Natasha a little too much of gang life.  There were no codes for dogs, just live, sniff, kill, or beg for scraps.   

            “What is it doing here?”

            Pets were strictly not allowed for SHIELD agents.  Not even fish, something Coulson had been trying to fight for years.  Bringing animals onto base just wasn’t done.  Somehow it felt like wearing swim wear into a cathedral.  Even if he had been given the go-ahead by Fury, Clint didn’t seem the dog type.  Too much attention and energy was needed to keep a dog happy, especially a puppy.  Clint could get rowdy now and again but too much of his life had been spent behind the barrel of a rifle or staring down an enemy with an arrow.  Both were precise, patient instruments.  A bull-terrier, best described as a three year-old in a dog suit was far from anything like that.    

            “He’s ours now.  I adopted him this morning and wanted to show everyone.  Picked him up at a charity event for fighting dogs – you know, giving them a second chance.  Bullseye came from a puppy-mill bust.” 

            Bullseye rolled over in Clint’s lap, sighing like a dog three times bigger than he was.  Laughing, Clint scratched behind one of his still floppy puppy ears. 

            “What do you mean ours?” Natasha demanded, voice cool and dangerous as an ice sheet. If Clint wasn’t careful he’d fall into a crevasse. 

            “I mean he’s ours.”  Clint held up the pup again and waved a paw at Natasha – Bullseye snapping his alligator jaws like he was catching fat flies.  “Hello Mommy!”   

            Natasha was not responsible for the goose-eye sized burse on Clint’s head.  It ran along the same lines of “It was murder but not a crime”. 

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            It turned out that the Avengers (minus Tony and Natasha) loved dogs.  Steve broke into the biggest grin this side of heaven when he saw the puppy.  Bullseye sprung from Clint’s arm at the sight of Steve.  Lucky for the dog he was as round and easy to catch as a football.  Both Bullseye and Steve pelted each other with obnoxious smooches that would make any diabetic overdose in the shear amount of sweetness.  Bullseye reminded Steve of the Rin-Tin-Tin movies he watched as a child and the overly affectionate pit-bull Bucky had named Emily.  He agreed to the idea of Bullseye staying at the mansion full time with the next breath – much to Tony’s obvious displeasure.

            “I think he’s in love,” Clint snorted as Bullseye nipped at Steve’s blonde locks.  Captain America only laughed and squeezed the puppy in another hug.

            Next on the list was Thor, who burst into such a fit of laughter upon seeing the smiley dog that it took a good five minutes to calm.  He would have recovered quicker but Bullseye’s ears flew up at Thor’s thunderous laughter and started a yodeling howl.  It was the most pathetic, hilarious noise the Asgardian had ever heard and he grew up with Loki when he went through puberty.  Clint put Bullseye on the ground so he could laugh and not shake the pup.  Bullseye wove around their feet, barking at both of them so feverously he bounced backward with each yelp.  Tail straight up and still grinning like a manic, Bullseye seemed to enjoy all the noise. 

            “What a fine hound,” Thor said once he caught a breath.  Clint sniggered into his palm.  Swooping down to the pup’s level, Thor poked Bullseye and stuck a thumb under his muzzle to look at the teeth.  Bullseye took the prodding in stride, licking Thor’s fingers, palms, and forearm with increasing giddiness.  “So tiny compared to our dogs on Asgard.”

            “Well he’s a puppy and your dogs are the size of hippos.  Anything compared to that looks microscopic.”  Affection laced Clint’s words as he watched Bullseye.  His grin was infectious. 

            “He will grow up strong,” Thor assured. 

            Clint found Bruce in his lab.  Bullseye went crazy sniffing all the chemicals and squirmed in Clint’s arms.  The archer didn’t risk putting him down but managed a wave at Bruce.  Dr. Banner laughed in shock and took off his glasses to get a better look at the pup. 

            On the run, Bruce made an effort to appreciate the small things.  Joyful puppies were always a source of laughter regardless of culture borders.  Bullseye was equally excited to sniff out all of the scents on Bruce.  His nose worked like it was part of a well run assembly line. 

            “What’s the name?” Bruce asked, accepting the puppy into his large hands.  The pup gnawed at Bruce’s thumbs.   

            “Bulleye,” Clint said, ever the proud parent.  A dry chuckle escaped Bruce.

            “Better than Target-Practice, I suppose.”

            Bullseye whined and struggled to get down to explore but neither adult wanted to risk the chance of him licking up dangerous chemicals.  He was passed back to Clint who held the dog one armed to keep kicking paws away.

            “A dog is a lot of work,” Bruce warned as he went back to his tinkering.  Clint replied with an instant.

            “I know.  I’m not twelve.”

            “You’ll be heartbroken when it’s gone; dead or removed by Fury, Tony, or Animal Services – take your pick.” 

            Clint stiffened.  “That’s won’t be for a while yet.”

            “All the worse.  The longer you are with something, the stronger the bond.  I think I can understand why you want the dog – something pure to hold onto, right?”  When Clint didn’t say anything Bruce continued.  “Just be prepared that nothing is permanent.”

            Clint lifted Bullseye up to his chest.  Bullseye made a tiny sound that was more of a yawn than a groan and licked the underside of Clint’s chin.  “Isn’t that what makes it better, knowing that we don’t necessarily have tomorrow?  Right now is what counts.”

            Both acknowledge that they weren’t talking about dogs anymore.  Bruce peered over his shoulder at Bruce and his smile was a little less forced this time around.  He nodded and went back to work.     

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            Not everything was sunshine’s and rainbows with a new puppy.  There were times when Clint realized how far up the river he was with a ladle, not a paddle. 

            “ _Kennel Train him_ , they said,” Clint snarled as he shoved his pillow around his ears.  Next he dove under his blankets as much as possible and hummed to ignore Bullseye’s Phantom of the Opera styled crying.  The puppy was kenneled in the bathroom, voice bouncing off tiles like light off a disco ball.  Although he had several blankets, chew toys, and a tape playing the sound of a den-mother and her pup’s breathing as they slept (suggested by Bruce), Bullseye acted like he was the last animal in existence.  “ _It’ll make him a happier dog_ , they said.”

            Bullseye screamed like he was being strangled.  Clint swore and kicked off the blankets.

            “Bet none of those people ever owned a dog in their lives.  They just hug the ones at pet stores and pester other people to adopt so they don’t have to deal with it.  Friggin’ jerks.”

            As he stomped to the bathroom and flung open the door, Bullseye wiggled his whole body and smiled up at Clint like nothing was wrong.  All his blankets were torn by tiny but capable teeth.  Stuffing managed to get everywhere, even into the shower despite Bullseye being confined to one corner of the room.  Parts of the kennel were banged up and scratched like they’d gone toe-to-toe with a Wolverine knockoff.  Clint swore again as Bullseye started to continue whimpering.  2:30am was too early for this.

            “Come on.  You’ve made your point.”  When he opened the kennel, Bullseye shot out to tackle him in sloppy kisses.  Next he raced away and ran through Clint’s apartment as if on a mission.  As Clint wandered back to bed he realized the mission was to chew on every bit of furniture Clint owned.      

            “Hey, enough of that,” he chided, and smacked the pup’s rump when he stuck his nose into Clint’s laundry hamper. 

Bullseye came out gnawing on a sock.  Wrangling the now torn fabric away, Clint pulled Bullseye onto the bed.  Clint should have known it would be impossible to get any sleep but he kept hoping he might get a wink in as the puppy spun in circles around his feet. 

            For another twenty minutes Bullseye ran around Clint’s bed until he leapt back to the floor.  Fifteen minutes after that Bullseye tromped through Clint’s apartment like a herd of elephants.  Clint groaned and buried his face into his pillow.  That only worked until Bullseye started whining for Clint to pick him up again – the bed was too high for the puppy. 

            Bullseye snuggled up to Clint and sucked on his nose, then fingers when Clint turned into his pillow.  Jittery and bouncy, Bullseye settled as soon as Clint tugged him into a one-armed embrace.  Ten glorious minutes were silent and still.  Then Bullseye started snoring like a monster impersonating someone’s overweight uncle.  He kicked his paws as he slept and continued whimpering despite being knocked out.  Clint counted the ways his life would improve without the puppy. 

            Half an hour later, just as sleep decided to accept Clint, Bullseye bound off the bed and started scratching at Clint’s door like zombies were after him.  In a moment there was – Clint felt like the woken dead as he stumbled to get a leash.  He didn’t bother with shoes or a coat, too tired.  Bullseye bit his toes as Clint attached the bright purple leash and led the puppy down the hallway to the famous Glass Stark Elevator.  The trouble with being named Hawkeye was the constant stream of nest jokes.  Clint liked having a view but having an apartment on the top floor wasn’t amusing at the moment.   

            Yawning into his elbow, Clint glared at New York City’s glittering lights.  The city might never sleep but it did dim from time to time.       

            Outside the inevitable happened.  Clint led Bullseye to a patch of grass in front of the mansion but the puppy just stared up at him with a dorky smile.  Clint wanted to hit something. 

            “Go pee,” he ordered.  Bullseye barked at him. 

            “No, stop complaining and go pee.  That’s why we’re out here.” 

            Instead of complying, Bullseye decided his leash was actually taffy and tested his teeth on it.  Clint yanked the leash back and shoved the puppy further into the grass.  This didn’t work either, Bullseye just chewed on the grass and pounced about to catch stirred up insects.

            “Come on!  You woke me up to go to the bathroom – go pee already!” 

            From across the street a police officer on patrol sniggered and Clint tossed him the birdie.  At this point he didn’t care if the President himself was out there or the very real fact that this whole thing was being recorded by Avengers paparazzi.  Clint was cold, tired, and irritated.       

            Defeated and humiliated, Clint led Bullseye back up to the top floor of the Avenger’s Mansion.  Bullseye lost his bladder control moments after getting back inside.  Come morning Clint was surprised he hadn’t just tossed the puppy out a window.  When Bullseye licked his fingers again and snuggled into Clint’s hip he forgave the pup and forgot about ever being angry.

            Bruce was right, after all.  Being close to something so pure and loving was worth the annoyance. 

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            Much to Tony’s chagrin, Bullseye took permanent residence in the Avengers Tower.  This was because of SHIELD’s firm ‘no pets’ policy and Steve’s unflappable interest in the pup.  There were people in the world born to enjoy dogs; Steve was one of them.  At first Clint was grateful – he got the puppy out of his hair for a few hours and pretend that he didn’t have a million responsibilities.  Clint took Bullseye out in the morning for a quick wiz before it’s back to the apartment until Steve can come by later to play with him.  Clint left early for training and SHIELD work after making sure there’s nothing in the apartment for the puppy to chew.  Bullseye still whined and whimpered as Clint left but he knew Bullseye would be happy as a finch when Steve showed up.   

            This relationship worked for another few weeks until Clint noticed how differently Bullseye treated him opposed to Steve.  Bullseye and Clint got along well, like two close friends who bickered with each other over the little things.  Clint shouted at the dog when he tore up the blankets and Bullseye snapped at Clint’s fingers when the archer played with the dog’s toes.  Bullseye was getting big now – for a medium sized pooch. 

            When Bullseye saw Steve though, the world lit up.  Bullseye yipped and danced and followed Steve with reverence.  Steve didn’t even have to call Bullseye over, didn’t have to bait him with treats like Clint did.  The dog sprang up and trotted over to Steve’s side like it was nothing special.  Steve even showed Clint a few tricks Bullseye learned now – sit, stay, shake, and even salute.  Bullseye scratched at his forehead for the last one, tongue lulling in satisfaction as Steve patted his muzzle. 

            “How. . .How do you do it?”

            Clint had to know what he was doing wrong.  Bullseye was his dog, damn it.  He was the one who was supposed to be teaching the dog how to sit.  He was the one Bullseye was supposed to greet in glee.  Clint had never owned a dog before.  He’d wanted one when his parents were still alive but after the accident Clint didn’t have any interest in animals.  The ones at the circus were trained almost exclusively with their handlers.  Once he tried to pet ‘Petite-Ti’, the miniature poodle who danced on a unicycle but when she bit his fingers Clint gave up on the idea of animals. 

            Bullseye was different.  A few weeks old and helpless, Clint couldn’t stand the thought of someone not adopting the pup because of his looks or his breed’s past.  Holding the lump of an animal in his hands, all Clint could think about was Loki’s control over him, how in spite of being compromised the Avengers gave him a second chance.  If a killer like Clint deserved it and innocent puppy should have no less.      

            “Do?  Do what?” Steve asked as he pounded Bullseye’s chest.  The dog rolled over in joy.  One sure fire way to tell a dog lover was by their forceful affection, especially with the hardy dogs.  Bullseye loved it.   

            “That.  How do you. .  .make him like you so much.” Clint scratched the back of his neck and tried not to look at Steve.  He wasn’t good at this sort of thing and neither did he want to be.  Clint took to relationships the way he took to sniping; keep a distance and measure the interference between himself and his target.  Laughter and snide remarks got him through most of his life but this . . . this was important.  Clint felt like he was flying blind.     

            Steve offered a bemused smile that Clint supposed was one of his super-serum benefits.  No way was a normal person’s smile able to be so sunny.  He brushed his palms over Bullseye once more before standing. 

            “I don’t make him do anything.  Companionship is a two way street.  To get a friend you have to be a friend.  Take him on walks, play fetch, spoil him a little.  He’ll warm up soon enough.” 

            Clint scoffed.  “Just like that?  No magic words or genetic modifications needed?”

“Just a little time.”  Steve clapped him on the shoulder and left the pair.  Bullseye chewed on his paws and gave Clint a sideways glance.  When he noticed Steve was gone the pup stood to follow.  Clint grabbed Bullseye by the collar and pulled him back so they could face each other.  The pup whined and mouthed on Clint's hand.  

"Hey, I'm gonna take care of you, okay?  And I'll do it right this time."  Bullseye whined louder, distressed at being parted from Steve.  Clint's chest got tight in the way it did when fellow SHIELD Agents gave him a wide birth, careful not to get too close to Hawkeye.  "Hey, I promise you.  Alright?  We're gonna take care of each other."

           Clint started on his promise as soon as he could. He took longer lunch breaks to walk the dog and on the weekends he took Bullseye to the park.  They went hiking and even to a dog friendly beach.  Before Clint left each morning they went through a new routine of practicing roll over – something Steve hadn’t been able to teach him.  The process was slow.  They didn’t wake up one day and were inseporateable but as a sniper, Clint honed patience long ago.  Clint noticed gradual changes in the dog and himself. 

            Bullseye still bound up to Steve but when Clint called him back the dog followed without hesitation.  Clint ended up bringing Bullseye everywhere with him, on increasing trips to SHIELD to annoy Coulson and even to a press conference for the Avengers.  Bullseye showed up in the news, photos of Clint kissing the dog’s forehead on the front cover of every magazine.  Clint didn’t mind one bit.  With Bullseye grinning up at him with that same dorky smile, Clint couldn’t help but fall in love.  

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End file.
